Sombra de la Tormenta
by Alanna diAblo1
Summary: Abby asks Carter not to help her. Carter complies. Chaos insues. (Carby, angst, drug addictions...two friends and former lovers get more than they barganed for.)
1. Default Chapter

Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, Prolouge  
Author:Alanna diAblo  
Summery: Abby asks Carter not to help her. Carter complies. Chaos insues.  
Authors Note:See end please  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Go ahead, but keep my name on it.  
  
****  
  
Sombra de la Tormenta, by Alanna diAblo  
  
Prolouge   
  
  
****  
  
I gave up on her and now I see the damage I've done. Ones actions have consequences for others. I no longer doubt this credo. She asked me to give up, and because I loved her and because she was begging, I did. I now know that it was selfish of me to give up like that. If I wanted to show her I loved her, I would have checked her into rehab.   
  
It's dark and eerie shadows are cast by the starlight. A new moon is out tonight, leaving it almost pitch black. I feel as empty as the night at this moment. It's almost as if time is standing still, and I'm alone on this planet.  
  
I walk outside and lean against the cold stone of the wall. The rock digs into the scars on my back. It hurts like hell, but I deserve to feel this way. I let my best friend down. I owed her so much more than I gave her. I grind my back against the wall, letting the sheer madness of the pain send shock waves through my body. The action is almost mindless.   
  
A guard walks by. I'm still in my scrubs from work, so I cross my fingers and hope he believes me to belong here.  
  
"Are you all right sir?" he asks me.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"It's below zero. You should go back inside. You have no coat on."  
  
I nod as only a numb person can. Getting myself together, I walk in through the sliding doors. It's a hospital, but one I'm not familiar with. I can smell death and sadness on these walls. Cries of fatigue drift from various rooms.   
  
The people here want to give in. They don't want to be here. I shudder and take a seat by her door. Should I go in? I still haven't told her I'm here. Will she embrace me as the friend she knew? Will she spit in my face? Or will she no longer remember who I am?  
  
Stupid man, of course she remembers you.  
  
I clasp my hands together, rubbing my two thumbs against each other.   
  
I miss what we had, the seemingly unbreakable friendship. I've often wondered what happened to her after she walked out of my life. Some nights I have dreams where she is walking the halls of another hospital, enjoying her new job, doing well in her new life. I guess my dreams are fanciful. I was wrong to let this happen, wrong to let her go.   
  
It's eleven twenty-two. I should go see her before someone figures out that I'm not supposed to be here. It took so much courage to convince myself to come; I don't think I'd have enough left to make myself come back anytime soon. There are too many emotions attached to this place.   
  
I push the door to her room, and it opens with a slight creak. There are no lights on, but her pale skin illuminates the dark space. Her once silky hair is stringy, and the pillow beneath her porcelain face is streaked with dirt. I can't believe this is happening, as I walk over to her bedside and watch her sleep. Abby is a narcotic, an addict. She is innocent in her dreaming, far away from the worries of the world, she almost looks peaceful.   
  
Her healing hands are cut up, and there's dirt under her fingernails. It is amazing how these hands have done so much good for other bodies, yet so much damage to their own. I gently turn her wrists over to see the tract marks of the needles. I kiss her below the wrist and lower her arm back down.   
  
"I'm sorry," I whisper as I walk out of the room.   
  
It's hard to walk away after being separated from her for so long, but I promise myself that I will return.   
  
~*^*~*^*~*^*~End: Sombra de la Tormenta, Prolouge.~*^*~*  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who beta'd/gave feedback on my drafts. Raine, Cathi, Sara (c's), my english teacher, and Shannon. Thanks you all.  
  
I have a few more chapters I'm editing now, but sujestions are great.  
  
Feedback is welcome at Rockarbaby@aol.com   
  
Thanks for reading. 


	2. Unfourtunaly, I'm Alive Again

Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, Part One: Unfourtunaly, I'm Alive Again.  
Author: Alanna diAblo  
Summery: Abby asks Carter to leave her alone. Carter complies. Chaos insues.  
Rating: R   
Author's Note: See end.  
Feedback: rockarbaby@aol.com  
Archive:Yes please, but email me when you do so I can break out the champange.   
  
  
****  
Sombra de la Tormenta, Chapter One: Unfortunatly I'm Alive Again  
  
"If you love someone, set them free."  
  
****  
  
I open my eyes as the door clicks shut behind Carter.   
  
"No, I'm sorry." I hold my pounding head as a sharp pain shoots through my sinusus. They're infected, the heroin has knocked down my immune system. As the pain dulls, I let a tear escape down my cheek, then another. I lay back down in the first decent bed I'd slept in, in weeks, and attempt to cry myself to a troubled sleep. Then again, everything these days is troubled.  
  
Seven weeks on heroin, two weeks on the street. Still on alcohol, still smoking when I can afford it. One meal a day. That is, if I'm lucky. No house. No family. No friends; unless you count the street pharmasist and the other shadows that buy from him. No support. One jacket, one shirt, one pair of pants. A pair of shoes that are worn, and probably a size too small. How did I get here?  
  
I wonder if he'll come back. I do look like hell on wheels, and maybe I scared him away. Reason tells me that he knows he wasn't allowed to be here, but diregarded the rules in order to see me. Maybe there's hope after all.  
  
I don't understand how Carter can blame himself for my addiction. Doesn't he see that it is my curse? That I am supposed to be this way? I don't care that he knows how badly I'm doing anymore. I don't care at all anymore; not like I used to try and hide from him. All I care about now is making him understand that there was nothing he could have done. I didn't want him to help, and he listened to me, some thing only he would have done. I love him for that. I know that he probably no longer respects me, how could he? But at times I wonder if he still loves me, or if he ever had.  
  
For the past few months I've been high more often then not. Slowly, my life has deteriorated around me. I've lost my house, and I rarely showed up at work, and if I did I was stoned. Carter asked me to stop, begged me even when he eventually found out. But by then I was too far down the road of addiction, and I didn't want to. It hurt to much to feel. I guess a part of him understood that, so he left me alone when I asked him to. He left me alone too much. But it's not like I can blame him for it. I don't. It's my own fault I've destroyed my life, not his.   
  
Two days off heroin. Two days in the hospital. One night. One visitor who I didn't even get to talk to. Six meals since I've been here. Two pillows benneath my head. Three showers. No neddles. No fix.   
  
I feel like shit and I think to much.  
  
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~  
  
I should go back to see her, but instead I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock for the third time. I can't face her after what I've done. I can't even face myself. Sleep is the only option at this moment. I let down my best friend, and my ex-sponsor. I roll over and sigh into the soft sheets. Great, now I'll never get back to sleep, I can still smell her in my bed. I inhale her scent and close my eyes. It feels like she was here a lifetime ago rather than two months.   
  
That night, she came shaking and wet with rain water. I took her into my arms and held her until her shuddering subsided. She was in my bedroom changing into dry clothes when I walked in on her. I should have turned around and left, but found I couldn't. I was frozen by those eyes that look like ice. Soaking wet and still shivering, she walked over to me and kissed me on the lips, warming us instantly.   
  
What followed warmed my memories for life.   
  
It was only two months ago she was laying beside me, right here. She was smiling and laughing then and I thought she was happy, and maybe at that moment I was right.   
  
It turns out she had been drinking behind my back and had come over that night to tell me. We got caught up in the moment of being so close and vulenerable with one another. I tried to help but Abby never did let a soul in.  
  
"Please Carter, just love me but don't help me. I don't need a "I don't need you as a savoir, Carter."  
  
"I owe it to you."  
  
"So sleeping with me is a form of payback?"  
  
"You know that's not true Abby."  
  
She had sighed and looked away then. The gesture filled me with a sinking feeling.   
  
"Carter, please, I don't need your help."  
  
Two weeks later she wasn't comming into work and not calling in, something that wasn't like her at all. I was sent over to investigate. Abby answered her door looking deliriously happy and tired, her wrists had a few tract marks as well. She was sky high, all the signs where there.   
  
"Why aren't you at work?" I asked.  
  
"No work today. I'm...uh...busy with something else..."  
  
"You're high aren't you?"  
  
"...What?"  
  
I shook my head. I wouldn't bother having a normal convorsation with her, I'd have to wait until she came down.   
  
I was there for a while.   
  
"Car'er." She slurred, as she emerged from her bedroom. "Get out of here."  
  
"No."  
  
She sighed and walked over to where I had been sitting. "What are you...Why are you here?"  
  
"You where shooting up." I stated. I didn't want to pretend like nothing was wrong with her, there had been enough of that. I wanted to know the truth and I wanted to know everything that instant. I was angry with her, I was angry with myself, angry at anyone who had caused her to act on this. A swell of emotions had rissen through my insides and settled tighly as a knot in my throat.   
  
Abby shook her head at my words, but already the guilty expression was on her face.   
  
She looked at the floor. "...I wasn't."  
  
"Abby, you have tract marks on your arms, and you where high just a few hours ago."  
  
"No I wasn't. Carter, I don't do heroin."   
  
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~  
  
I was low. Lower then I'd been in a long time. I hated it, it was cruel reality. This was my fault. I'd demolished my life and it was up to me to get it in order. I sighed and lay back in bed. I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to sleep and forget about all of this. I'd just shut my eyes when I heard the door open.   
  
So much for sleeping.  
  
"Abby, I'm Shelia. Your therepist is asking for you, can you get dressed and meet me out in the hallway?"  
  
I groan and she takes it as a yes. Sucker. I'm not getting out of bed. I'll just die right here. I'll sleep forever. I can't deal with all of this right now, or ever.  
  
The door opens again.   
  
"You have to get up."  
  
"Fuck you." I don't care who you are, leave me alone.   
  
"Get up."  
  
"No. Maybe later."  
  
"You'll never fix things laying around in bed." Fix things. Hah.  
  
"I'll never screw up my life laying around in bed either." I make a good point.  
  
"Get up."  
  
"No."  
  
The person in the doorway walks over and rips off my covers. I don't care, I'll just roll over and snuggle against my pillow...She takes that too. These people have no sympathy.   
  
"Fine, I'm up. Happy?" I look at the young nurses face and sence something familiar about it.   
  
I avoid eye contact.   
  
"Get dressed."  
  
"I'm in my clothes."  
  
"Then follow me." She walks down a hallway to a staircase. We head up a flight, then head to the left. The hallway is bright white, and neon yellow light reflect off of the shiney floors. It's too chaste for a rehab center. Didn't anyone think of that? If I'd designed this place, the floor would have been a deep black. A dirty black, asphalt maybe, the lights would be dull and cheep. It would be dark and cold. It's hot in here. Probably because of people comming down that have the chills.   
  
I remember that only three days ago I thought this place was cold.   
  
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~  
  
It's too late to turn back now, I've already pulled into the parking lot of the rehab. I know that I can find her doctor in his office on the third floor, so I start there.  
  
The hallways are long and brightly lit, I walk quickly, trying to step on the light that's reflected on the floor. It's a childish game I play when I don't want to think about where I'm going. I played it a lot back in Atlanta.  
  
"Hi, I'm here to see doctor Marcek...?"  
  
The secretary looks me over. "What's this regarding?"  
  
"One of his paitients...Abigail Lockhart." It sounds wrong comming out of my mouth. It's a harsh reality; Abby is in rehab.  
  
"May I ask what your visit is about?"  
  
I sigh. "I'm doctor John Carter. Abby is a good friend of mine. Since none of her family is around, I thought I'd..."  
  
"Oh," She smiles slightly at me, making me a bit more relieved. "Abby is in a session with one of our doctors from social work. Doctor Marcek is in his office. Would you like to speak with him?"  
  
"Yes, that would be great."  
  
She knocks on his door and they murmer a few words to each other, every so often looking over in my direction. I feel like a hamster in a cage.   
  
The door closes.  
  
"Please, take a seat doctor Carter. Doctor Marcek will be ready in a moment."  
  
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~  
  
I didn't want to be asked about the not-so-great detail of my exsistance, but these people are paid for it. Just my luck.  
  
"So you started heroin soon after your...should we say...fall out with this person?"  
  
I turn my head back towards the shrinks direction. It's nothing personal against this woman that I'm trying my best to ignore her, I've just never liked having people ask me my life story, let alone a stranger.  
  
"It wasn't a 'fall out,' he just didn't want to speak with me after her found out I was drinking again. Then I quit, and started heroin. A week after I'd been using, I went over to his house to tell him and...um...we...I didn't end up telling him. Then a few weeks later he saw me high and confronted me about it."  
  
"Where you mad at him?" She leans forward in the chair. I cross my arms, daring her to make me tell. "Abby."   
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Hmm." She says, and writes something down her her notepad. 'Crazy Cynical Bitch?' I wouldn't be surprised considering how I've treated her. "Do you think you might have blamed him for not helping you with your alcoholism?"  
  
"I asked him not to help me. He..." I sigh again. I hate emotion. "He understands me enough to know that I really didn't need help."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"Not with alcoholism."  
  
"I see. Did you need help with your drug use?"  
  
"It wasn't bad then, and he didn't even know I was using. Besides, he's used himself. I thought he would have killed me if he'd found out. I was his sponsor." Did I really just say all of that out loud?   
  
"Can you descirbe your relationship with him?"  
  
"...Not easliy."  
  
"It's complicated?"  
  
"Very. I think he blames himself for my use."  
  
"Do you blame him?" I shake my head and say nothing.  
  
"It's a natural reaction." She looks at her watch. "Our time is up, but I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
I get up form the leather chair and head for the door. "Bye."  
  
"I'm glad you can open up to me."  
  
I nod and leave, not knowing how to respond. I'd never been as vulnerable in front of another human being like that before. I'm not sure how I feel about it either, I have some serious thinking to do.   
  
Did I blame Carter? I'd convinced myself that I didn't, but I wasn't so sure anymore.  
  
****  
  
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part One: Unfourtunatly, I'm Alive Again.  
  
  
Author's Note: Drop me a line.   
Thanks to Raine for a great beta...and on short notice. I owe you chica. Thanks to Shannon for always reading my drafts and encouraging me to finish. Thanks to Cathi for the sujestions and early feedback. And last but certanly not least, a big shout out to Sara (aka C's) for the beta. You guys rock.  
  
More comming soon. Keep an eye out.   
  
Feedback is awesome. Rockarbaby@aol.com 


	3. Never Again

Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, part two: Never Again.  
Author: Alanna diAblo  
Summery: See part one.  
Author's note: see end please  
Rating: R  
  
  
  
****  
  
Abby holds my gaze as my arms circle around her small body. I feel her relax into me, and as her weight leans into my chest, she sighs. Heaven, this is heaven on earth. I burry my face into the top of her head and inhale slighty, taking in her scent. Her fingertips play light patterns on my shoulders, the heat of them reaching my skin through my thin tee shirt. I rub her back, and she relaxes further, if that's possible.   
  
"Mmm, Carter..." She murmers, making me shudder at the mere sound of my name on her tounge.   
  
Suddenly, she pulls back and looks into my eyes once more. I swallow, starring right back into those deep brown pools she has for eyes. I'm sinking into them.   
  
"Carter, kiss me." I do, oh god I do. I kiss her like there's no tomorrow, no yesterday and only today. When she moans from deep in her throat, I can't help but deepening the kiss even further. I pull Abby even closer to me, and in the secconds we break appart both of our shirts come off. Then a few moments later we're as close as we can be.   
  
My alarm clock screams into my left ear and the dream fades.   
  
Back to the real world, I think, pushing the covers off of my sweaty body.   
  
At least I'll only be on triage.  
  
****  
  
Group hasn't always been one of the more exciting things to do, but when it's that or one on one counciling, I'd pick group any day. This former addict, Ben, is speaking now. He's been to this rehab four times, and this is his third time through this particular program. He tells us all, how as soon as you get out of here, the real chalange begins. In the real world, you have to create your own support group because generally there's no one waiting for you on the other side of this wall.   
  
Ben tells us that his narcotic addiction began when his mother had died. Picking up the needle was the best thing he could think of to ease the pain. That hits a little to close to home, and as I look around, I see that a lot of people have started to cry.   
  
"Find yourself a family." Ben says. "A sponsor, a friend, anyone who will listen and who understands."   
  
Now I know how Carter felt. Alone, scared no one would accept me now that I've admitted that I'm a narcotic. Being a narcotic can't be in the past tense, it's always there. Waiting in the shaddows of your mind, so that one day if you can't take life anymore, it can pounce on your broken psyhce and take over once more. I need someone when I get out in another twenty days or so.   
  
Who the hell would want someone this broken? I feel like a cheap chocolate easter bunny, hollow and only as food as the date on the bottom of my cardbord cage. I sigh and sink back into the chair as Ben wraps up his advice. This is going to be a long month.  
  
****  
  
This is going to be a long month. I miss her, and I want to see her. She's only a few miles away, I could sneak over now and we once more we'd make eye contact. It's been awhile.  
  
I'm at work, and I'm going about my normal life style, but I've been living in my thoughts. Weaver's picked up on it too, and I've since been sentanced to triage until Abby is discharged.   
  
The only way she'll get better is isolation, according to her doctor. The only way she'll be able to stop her addiction is to find her own way, and part of me understands that. Yet I can't take it anymore. If I couldn't help her then, why won't anyone let me help her now? Have I lost my validity as a friend or sponsor?   
  
I finish up sutures on a caucasian male, 45, 5'5 and 203 pounds.I've stoped thinking of my paitients as human, and instead they've become numbers. It started when Abby left.  
  
I couldn't feel anymore, it hurt to damn much.  
  
God Abby, I miss you and I'd do anything to see you again, I'd die to see you well once more. I never thought I'd speak like one of those lovesick people, but you have that affect on me, can't you tell? When I'm without you, I'm nothing. I need you like I need air.   
  
I think I'm going to be sick.  
  
I am sick.  
  
I run out of the lounge to the bathroom, but only make it halfway down the hall before I puke. Just lovely.  
  
"You okay Carter?" Weaver asks me.  
  
I swallow, the taste of stomache acid is fresh in my mouth and I try to ignore it. "Must have been something I ate."  
  
Weaver looks at me. "You sure?"  
  
"Mm hmm."  
  
"If you need some time off until Abby recovers we can arange-" I don't let her finnish, a wave of rage posesses me.  
  
"Why does everyone think I'm so upset about Abby? Are you going to blame every strange thing I do on her? Don't do that! It's all of my fault and I should feel guilty. So just leave it alone." I don't know if any of what I just said made sence, nor do I care, as I storm out of the ER to the roof.   
  
After fighting my way past hospital staff and paitients, I'm here, I'm as close to privacy as possible for the time being. I take in a breath of fresh air, and let myself sob, I let it all out. I'm so sorry Abby. I'm so sorry I let this happen to you. At a time when you needed me the most I wasn't there. I don't care if you ever forgive me, I just want you to be all right.   
  
I sink down against the brick wall and burry my face in my hands. I can't face the world ever again. Not after what I did to the one person I've ever truely cared about, not after betreyal like that. Never again.   
  
If I'd had another chance, I wouldn't have yelled at her that night. I wouldn't have abandoned her, leaving her in a pool of tears she was drowning in. All she needed was a hand, to lift her up and dust her off, and in my fury I just left. The door slaming behind me still echos as a turning point in my mind.   
  
I don't know what I was thinking.  
  
"Hey." A voice from above says. I didn't hear anyone aproaching, but then again, I'm wrapped up in my own thoughts.   
  
"Carter." I can't look up. "Carter, I need to talk with you." I give in and look up.  
  
"What is it Susan? I'm not in the mood for a lecture." Funny, the way I've said it makes me sound broken.  
  
"I know about Abby. It's understandable that you are upset, we all are." She leans against the wall and looks down at me. I don't say anything, I don't know what she wants me to say. "It's not your fault okay?" I nod, but I don't believe a word of it. "Addiction is a disease Carter, it's a sickness, one that can't be prevented in certain people, only treated. You did the best you could."  
  
"No I didn't."   
  
She sighs.   
  
"I didn't do enough, I could have stopped her, I could have saved her."  
  
"Did she ask you to help?"  
  
"She begged me not to."  
  
"Then you did the best you could have done."  
  
"No. She needed help and I left her. I denyed I had a problem when I had one. I should have known better."  
  
"You loved her, you still do, and it's enough." She takes one last look down at me. "It's enough. Goodnight Carter."  
  
The sound of the door of the roof closing echos in my ears. I take in a deep breath. Maybe Susan is right, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself, it's not helping anyone.   
  
****  
  
Get me out of here. I can't stand another group meeting or another meeting with these over-friendly staff. I've read this book three times already, and the only other books around are being read by other people, no one wants to trade either. So here I sit, starring out of my window, waiting for another two weeks to go by to I can leave and attempt to get some form of my life back. The door opens, and I don't bother turning around.  
  
"Hey Abby."   
  
"Hi Shelia." This woman doesn't give up.   
  
"What's up?" She comes in the room as if she's my best friend, and plops herself right down on my bed.   
  
"Bored."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
I shrug. I'm not in the mood for talking, I've had enough of that lately. We sit in silence for awhile, and she shifts uncomfortably on my bed, playing with her hands on her lap. I watch her reflection in the window as I wait for her to speak, but she doesn't say anything.  
  
"Why are you here?" I ask.  
  
"Just to talk."  
  
"I'm sick of talking. I'm sorry, but I can't talk anymore."  
  
"Well, you need to talk, so that when you want to use, you have alternatives to drugs."  
  
"I know what drugs did to me, and I know that I'm lucky that he brought be here."  
  
"Do you think you'll ever go back to using?"  
  
"I told you, I don't want to talk." She sighs.  
  
"You have friends and family out there that miss you, they want to have you back, they'll help you."  
  
"No, that's where you are mistaken. My brother is in Arabia with the military and doesn't even know about this. My mother died last year, and my father had never been around."  
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
"Don't be."  
  
"You do have friends though."   
  
I look down at the window sill, tears theatening to invade my eyes. I wipe them away, furious at myself.  
  
"Go away. Please, I need to be alone." I motion with my hand for her to leave, and she gets up. But instead of leaving, she puts hand on my shoulder in attempt to comfort me. I shrug her off, almost jumping at the touch. No one has touched me for comfort me since my last night with Carter.  
  
"..Please..." I whimper to Shelia. "I can't...please just go." She leaves, and I hug my knees to my chin. When I'm sure she's gone, I finish my cry quietly, then crawl into bed. This day is over. I surrender to the dark bliss of sleep, and I'm out cold for the night.  
  
****  
  
She lost her home a few weeks after we stopped talking and eventually wound up on the streets of Chicago. I'd found out too late.  
  
I had been out to dinner with my dad and some friends of the family the night I got the phone call. It was Susan Lewis, an advocate of Abby's ever since we'd cut off communication.  
  
"Carter. It's me."  
  
"Does Abby need another fifty bucks to get a fix?"  
  
There was a pause as my own hard words rang in my ears and Susan sighed on the other end.  
  
"Carter, I didn't tell you, but I haven't talked to Abby in awhile. I was hopping you'd heard from her...I guess not." It finaly had gotten to her that her best friend had disapeared. Now she knew how I'd felt all of this time. "Carter?"  
  
"Yeah I'm still here."  
  
"I went to the motel where she's been staying--"  
  
"She's been living in a motel?!"  
  
"She didn't want me to tell you."  
  
"Like hell she didn't!"  
  
"Calm down and listen to me. I went to see her, and she's not there. They kicked her out, all of her stuff was gone." Susan finished, and I gasped for air as if I had the wind knocked out of me.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
There was no answer.   
  
"What should we do Susan? Can we call the cops?"  
  
Still no answer.  
  
"Susan, I need your help."  
  
"I can't do this anymore Carter. I can't keep running around Chicago at un-godly hours to check on her for you. I can't being the medium. I want to help, but you can't hide behind me any more." She hung up and I stood absorbing the aftershock of all that had just been thrown at me. As much as I hated to admit it, Susan was right. I couldn't sit on my ass waiting for her to hear from Abby, I had to take action.  
  
I had grabbed my coat and a flashlight, and headed out into the night to search for Abby.  
  
What a night that had been.  
  
My memories are worn from being replayed so many times. A week and a half until she gets out of rehab, and I'm still not used to the idea that she was even an addict. It's crazy, I know, but this whole thing is crazy. I should probably head home, but I've taken a liking to lurking around Abby's old appartment.   
  
I started paying rent on it after that night. I was clinging to the false hope that she would be found, and clean herself up. That this hell that has beccome our lives would be a mere memory we could push aside as she came back into the real world or sobrerity.   
  
My dream's about to come true. This is what I want. Then why am I so scared?   
  
Maybe, I think, it's because there's a possibility that what she wants it to be different.  
  
****  
  
Did I blame Carter for my addiction? This is the question I'm asked at least once a week as I sit in this black leather chair, my sweat bonding with it to hold me prisoner in this office. Every time I answer no and today is no exception.   
  
"This is good Abby. We are making progress." Dr.Marcek scribbles in his notes as I nod and smile a shit-eating grin. That's right, just nod and smile Abby. Poor little Abby the narcotic.   
  
At times I hate my thought process.   
  
He clears his throat. "You're getting out of here in a few days. What do you intend to do when you get back to life?"  
  
There are to many unknowns. It's not safe to answer now. So I shrug and leave.  
  
As soon as the door closes behind me, I break my facade and put my hands to my face. I feel as if the fire that has been burning in the pit of my stomache this entire time has finaly found fuel. I slump against the wall and let out a breath.   
  
I'm clean. So what? I have nothing left outside of these walls. No one left either.  
  
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~^*^*~*^*~*^*End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Two: Never Again~*^*~ 


	4. One Down

Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Three: One Down  
Author: Alanna diAblo  
Summery: See Prolouge  
Rating: R  
  
  
  
****  
  
"You're looking for Abby?" The woman at the soup kitchen asked me. "About five, five brown hair and brown eyes?"  
  
I nodded and she gave me directions to a corner downtown.  
  
As I drove down the highway, the headlights of cars turned on, flickering like early morning stars. It was still light out, but just barely. The sky was fading from salmon pink to a deep purple. A gentle breeze rusted through the air, rushing out the hot weather of a Chicago summer.   
  
I flipped my blinker on, and slowed down as I entered a shady part of town. I tried to keep my eyes on the road as I drove past the dealers and the gangs-a group of boys playing with knifes like they were toys. Groups of homeless people congregated around park benches, ignoring the people who rushed were trying to get behind locked doors before dark.   
  
The liquor store had been assaulted by graffiti long ago, and was missing a few letters. The drug store had bars on the windows, along with almost every other building in the district. I slowed down even more, despite the beeping of the car behind me; the base beat of the music comming from it was increasing the pounding in my heart.   
  
A dark form was crouched down by a wall. I didn't know what to make of it at first, but then I saw the pale skin, and those eyes, and I just knew.   
  
I pulled over, and the car behind me sped away down the street, the passengers were screaming something back to me that I couldn't hear. Which was probably a good thing, I had thought as I slammed my car door shut.  
  
The noise caused her to glance up, but once she saw me approaching her gaze held to give me a cold stare. It was devoid or anything showing she was human, and I felt my heart drop to my feet.   
  
She was as high as a kite but some part of her knew that I wasn't a stranger, though she had tensed up as I came closer.   
  
It's not like I could blame the fear on her.  
  
I reached down to her, to pull her up from the misery of the life that lie before her. Abby stared up at me with eyes that screamed vacancy. Regardless, she took my hand. I pulled her up, and hugged her to me with one arm.  
  
"Abby," I whispered. "I'm going to help you." She was too worn out to bother fighting me off or to stand on her own.   
  
I lifted her into the car, and she slumped against the window as the door shut. She was like a puppet, and I had the strings. It scared me to see her like this: so weak, so unlike Abby. It was then it had hit me that I might never get the same old Abby back. Ever. If I let this continue.   
  
We drove through the night, Abby asleep against the cold window. Soft murmurs and notes drifted from the radio that I didn't have the energy to turn off. The traffic got quieter as we neared the outskirts of the city. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, God's Thumbnail, as Abby liked to call it.   
  
I glanced over at her; shallow and even breaths hit the window, making steam. I longed to reach out for her, to touch her once more, but I resisted.   
  
I drove for a long time. I drove into early the next morning, stopping only once to get gas and a bite to eat. Through it all, Abby slept. As I watched her, eating my gas-station sandwich, I thought about every thing.   
  
Am I the butterfly or tornado?   
  
Tornado, defiantly the tornado. You've proved that to me on more than one occasion, Abby.  
  
A tree falls in Zimbabwe and Abby's a heroin addict. Life is so cruel.   
  
Now that the damage was done, I didn't want chaos to continue it's reign. There was only one thing left to try and rebuild the ruins of her life.   
  
With one last look at the sleeping woman in the seat beside me, I drove back to where I should have taken her in the first place.I checked her into rehab. It felt like it was the right thing to do. I couldn't help her through this, but I could help her later on.  
  
After filling out a couple of forms I'd left as quickly as possible.   
  
I don't know if she even remembered that night, or if she did if she hated me for it. There were too many emotions to work through, and now they've been waiting in the corners for their chance to pull us down again. I was ready and waiting to resist or serve.   
  
  
  
****  
"I hungered for a grasp of the framework of contemporary living, for a knowledge of the forms of life about me, for eyes to see the bony structures of personality, for theories to light up the shadows of conduct."  
--Richard Wright, Black Boy  
****  
  
I'm free from that place, but not from myself. I was discharged this morning, and now I don't know what to do with my body. I don't know where I fit in, where I belong. It's as if I've been dropped in the middle of the world without knowing how to get by. Everything has to be relearned and regained. I'm alone and, I'll admit it, I'm scared.   
  
As I walk through the streets of Chicago, I pass by familiar stores. It's like de ja vu. It's like everyone is watching me, and no one wants to help. They can see me, but they can't know me or do anything about it. I'm on a reality show, and everyone else is the camera.   
  
I know that I have my old house back, Dr. Marcek told me Carter had been paying rent and would continue to do so for as long as I needed the support. Which wouldn't be long, I told myself, because I would be applying for jobs the next morning. At the moment, I just need to walk. I don't want to go home because it would make this weird feeling even worse. Carter is probably there too. I don't want to face him yet. There's too much to say and I don't feel like talking.  
  
The wind blows hard, and I clutch the cheap jacket, tighter. It's freezing, I'd forgotten how cold Chicago winters were. Rounding the corner of the sidewalk, I see a brightly lit restaurant covered in Christmas lights. I drift closer towards it, drawn by the familiarity.   
  
Inside, people are laughing and eating. It's crowded and smoke filled, but the atmosphere is cozy. I look up to read the sign and realize it's Doc Magoo's. I'm across the street from County. Your feet always do take you home.   
  
Taking a look over at the ambulance bay I spy Susan Lewis smoking a cigarette.   
  
Since when does Susan smoke?   
  
I turn cheek as she stares over in my direction, and then I take a sidelong glance. She's caught sight of me all right. Her full attention is facing my direction at the moment, and I feel like a bug under a microscope.   
  
I turn heal and walk back in the direction I came in. I hope she figures it was just someone who looked like me. At the moment, I'd rather face my old home and the possibility of Carter, instead the entire ER staff.   
  
One person is waiting for me, and I already have enough explaining to do. A whole hospital might take a year, and lots of patience that I don't have.   
  
* * * *  
  
I've been waiting on her couch for an entire day. I forgot how she would have probably figured out I would be here on her first day home, and would most-likely want to be alone. I disregarded those facts as soon as they came to mind. Abby's doctor said that I should let her know I'm there for her, insist on it even. Waiting up for her is a step in the right direction.   
  
The heat in her house is really high because the thermostat is busted. I've called the landlord, but he can't fix it until tomorrow. I'm already striped down to a tee shirt and slacks; all of the windows are open as well. I can't take it anymore, so I head outside.   
  
I sit on the steps watching my breath in the frosty air. We used to sit here together at night, Abby smoking a cigarette, and myself keeping her company. We'd talk, there was supposed to be no hiding. There wasn't, until this. It was scary how dependant on each other we became. I had needed her as much as she needed me. Perhaps that's what drove her to drug use.   
  
I sigh and lean on my elbows, benchwarmer position. I've put my brain on autopilot, not wanting the millions of negative thoughts to get me down. I've gone numb, not wanting to overwhelm Abby her first day back. I have to be like ice. There's someone watching me, I can sense a presence.   
  
I look up.   
  
She stands in front of me, her coat flapping in the stung December winds, her arms dropped to her side. She's clean, she's home, and she's safe. I stand up, my mouth agape. Her features have hardened and she looks much older than her thirty-two years. The one thing that reassures me is the slight smile gracing her face. At least she seems to be at peace with herself. Still, I don't know what to expect.   
  
Another gust of wind hits the street hard, and her hair flies in front of her face, strands getting caught in between her lips. She takes a step towards me. Time stands still as a million questions race through my mind.  
  
Before I know it, Abby is in my arms with her body pressed against mine and her head tucks into my chest. I squeeze her to myself, never wanting to let her go. The wind blows against us, howling in our ears. I'm still in a tee shirt, but the cold doesn't bother me. I'm content enough to know that I can hold her again.  
  
Amidst it all, she just grasps me like she'll blow away if either of us lets go. In this iron grasp of hers I remember what it was like between us.   
  
Eventually the wind dies down, and we relax into each other.   
  
"I'm sorry." I say, causing her to look up. Abby pulls away but still keeps her arms around my waist. She smiles a bittersweet smile that sends a pang into my stomach. I'm literally aching for her as she shakes her head. Abby embraces me once more, her hands running up my back, then down to rest again.   
  
My ache has subsided. She knows.   
  
One down. Thousands to go.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
****  
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Three: One Down  
  
Part Four coming soon.  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note:   
  
Okay, everyone when they see Sara beter give her a **BIG** cyber hug, cause without her this whole thing wouldn't have been possible. Everyones is so busy, and I feel honored she took the time to beta this for me. THANKS SARA!!! I'm forever your groupie.   
  
I'm guessing there will be at least five chapters and an epilouge. FYI, Part Four is in the works, so if you have sujestions please get them to me and I'll try my best to incorrporate them.   
  
If no one had reviewed and given sujestions on how I can improve my work, I wouldn't bother posting online. So to all who have given great feedback and even an "I enjoy your work" I really appreciate it. Thanks.   
  
And for all who are looking for some good Abby angst, my reccomendation is Vivi Dahlin's 'The Boy Next Door.' Seriously, this almost made me cry, and I can't say that for much of anything I've read these days.   
  
Until next time, adios.  
  
Always a pleasure to write~ Alanna diAblo 


	5. Those Kinds of Days

Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Four: Those Kinds Of Days  
  
See Part One for other information.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
"...then Chuny says to him: 'Put it down on the table or I'm going to explode!'"  
  
There's a polite chuckle on the other side of the doorway, but no other response.   
  
"Abby?"   
  
The door opens, realvieling Abby wearing her pajamas and a solom expression. There's a pause. I know what's coming is what I've been avoiding all night.   
  
"What now, Carter? Tell me what to do." I should know. I was the original addict of our duo. I can't go on like nothing ever hapened.   
  
"I don't know." I reply, telling the truth.   
  
Abby's small arms push against the doorframe as she lets out a breath.   
  
"Why are you here? You should go home. Watch football or something." Her head is bowed.  
  
"There's no game on."  
  
Agrivated, she tells me I don't need to be with her. Not now. Way to state the facts. I tell her I'm here with her because I want to be. She continues to scowl at me.   
  
"Look, if you don't want me around now, that's fine. Just ask me. I'll go if you want me to, but I'd prefer no to." I can see my words give way in her eyes, but not another feature falters.   
  
"I'm sure there's something on TV."  
  
I don't respond. I can relate to wanting space, but her rejection stings. Abby resumes staring at the rug. She knows that her words hurt me, she's just ignoring it.   
  
"Carter, please leave."  
  
"Fine." I turn my back, going to get my coat which I left on the couch. "The landlord will be coming by tommorrow to fix your thermostat." I call over my shoulder.  
  
"I thought it was hot in here."   
  
"Try ninety degrees." I say as I open the door. The knob is cool in my hand and I squeeze it, as if it alone can lower my temperature. I turn to look at her, still gripping the door handle.  
  
"Can I reach you at the mansion? You know, to go to lunch or something?" She asks as her eyes skip around the room dodging my own.   
  
I dig into my pocket and pull out a receipt and writing my number onto it.   
  
"I moved." She nods. "Appartment."  
  
She smiles as I hand the piece of paper to her.   
  
"So, I guess I'll call you tommorow?" Her tone makes me shake, so I clutch the cool knob one last time to steady myself.   
  
"Tommorow. Take care of yourself."   
  
"Bye." The door shuts behind me and I head home.   
  
I've done all I can for now, the rest is up to her. Walking away like this, I can't help but feel guilty. Then again she asked me to leave, and said she'd call me tommorow. I hope I can believe her. Lies would just add salt to the wound.   
  
I want her to know that I've learned from my selfish mistakes and I don't ever want to abandon her in a time of need, ever again. I want her to be able to trust me, but deep within me I know she has to learn to do that on her own. At least I can still be a friend, or at least, I hope I can be one.   
  
****  
  
My house is so damn hot, so my bathwater is left at lukewarm. Picking up a sponge I scrub away all of the memories and places and faceless people that I want to forget. Rubbing hard, I will the dust of time to leave and never taint me again. With all my might I try but at the end of the day all I'm left with is pinkened skin and knowledge that this will never leave me.   
  
The bubbles dwindle down so all that's left is a white coating on top of the water. I pull the plug and step out of the tub. I towel myself off and get back into my summer pajamas. They're light, airy, which is good because it feels like the Sahara in here.   
  
I don't want to think about how I'll sleep tonight.   
  
The moisture in the air clings to my skin, smothering it until I steop out into my bedroom and the water evaporates into the dry air.   
  
My home looks like I left it. Clean, safe and comfortable. I look in the refrigerator and find Carter has restocked it with a six pack of soda and some grapefruit. Thr freezer has a couple of frozen pizzas and a pint of mint chocolatechip ice cream. Life is uncertain, eat dessert first, I think while digging around for a spoon.   
  
As I sit on my window seat, there's an instant where I feel like a normal woman. The fact I just got out of rehab less than twenty-four hours ago be damned. That, and my former lover is trying to rebuild what seemed like a lost cause of a relationship.   
  
I knew I'd start thinking about Carter again. As much as he feels like home to me, being with him after all the recent shit we've gone through is a little awkward. Then again, the "real world" also has an alienating affect on me. I was given a heads up before I boarded the bus this morning, but warning wasn't enough.   
  
In my case, warnings rarely are. Some things I need to figure out on my own. I've learned now that it does take effort to make yourself feel wanted. The fragility of things has been made more apparent to me, but I know I have to suck it up and remain tough, because that's what's expected of me. That's who I am.   
  
I get through the bad parts with a shit-eating grin and cynicism, because that's what I always do. All though this time I have to rebuild a relationship upon broken bonds of trust and love.   
  
I look up to find myself staring out at the smokey and jazz cluttered Chicago skyline. My tenedency to space out has come more frequently.  
  
I set my bowl of melted mintchip ice cream on the counter. It's eleven, I'm tired, deppressed and I know I have to deal with Carter tommorow. My eye lashes have turned to lead, so I stroll to my bedroom and lay down, pulling the crisp sheets and comforter up to my chin. As hot as it is I feel safe with the added weight of my comforter on top of me.  
  
I try and stay awake as long as I can, just incase this is a dream and I'm about to wake up back in that hospital. I'm scared to go back there, to face drugs did to my body. But what's strange is that I'm as frightened of that as I am of getting my old self back. I have to explain this to my friends and my co-workers. The only person I know from my past life who's had any experience with this feeling is Carter. No one else will understand me as well as he can.  
  
Hello, I am Abby Lockhart and this is the life I chose.   
  
I don't know what I was thinking.   
  
****  
  
  
  
The phone rings.   
  
"Carter."  
  
"Hey. Carter, it's Abby."   
  
The light streaming through my window blinds me. Looking at my clock, I see that it's eleven thirty, AM.   
  
"Hey," I swing my legs over the side of the bed and tuck the phone under my ear. "How was your first night back?"  
  
"Hot...temperature wise."   
  
That's the Abby I know and love.  
  
"I see. Well, I just got up, so..." I trail off, leaving it up to her to make a plan. I don't want to impose anything on her.  
  
"Yeah, me too. Mr.Townsend hasn't been by to fix my damn heat yet so I have a feeling I'll be hanging around here for awhile." There's a pause and I can hear her breathing on the other end. Inhale, exhale, hold, release. She swallows.   
  
"You can come over here, you know, if you want to."  
  
"Sure."   
  
My hear beays a little bit faster and my viens fill up so my skin feels like it will pop. I think I sounded too excited due to my voice cracking, but I don't really care. She's asking for my pressence after what I did to her, and she doesn't sound like she has any desire to kill me.   
  
"How's two?"  
  
Shit, Weaver wants me on from one until midnight.  
  
"Actually, you know what, I just realized I have a shift. I'm sorry."  
  
I can visulize her twisting the phone cord around in her fingers.   
  
"It's okay."   
  
This is the part where she'd roll her eyes and brush it off.   
  
"You can come around four or so if you want. I can take a break and we can get an early dinner or something."   
  
"Actually, that works out well. After the thermostat is fixed I was going to go looking for a job."   
  
I nod, even though I know she can't see me. "County is hiring."  
  
"I'll see you at four, Carter."  
  
There's a click, then a dial tone.   
  
I just want it to be normal again. I wish this whole thing hadn't happened, but the dial tone in my ear is a reminder that this is reality.   
  
  
****  
  
"Flatline. Call it."   
  
I shed my yellow apron and laytex gloves, discarding them onto the checkerd floor. A new nurse named Kelly pronounces Mr. Thorton's time of death, and I leave the trauma room bloody and discouraged.   
  
I pass Luka's tall, brooding self, by the admit desk. Frank is babling on about something to me, but I just nod and check the board for any patients. Surprisingly, the only ones left are waiting on labs.   
  
I turn around in a daze and smack into Frank, who spills hit hot coffee all over me. The steaming liquid hits my skin, burning me, then comes to a stop as it cools. I look down at my chest and see the remaineders of it seeping into my shirt. Blood and coffee, hell of a mixture. For a vampire maybe.  
  
"Watch it." Frank barks. I don't bother responding and go to the closet to look for scrubs to change into.   
  
The vampire juice sticks to my skin as I gingerly peel off my shirt. I dig around in the pile of scrubs before me, trying to find at least a large, when I feel a set of large green eyes on me.  
  
"Hello, Dr.Carter." It's Kelly.  
  
"Um, hi." I say, tugging the scrub top on. A little embarassed I turn to face her again. "Did you need something?" She smiles and raises an eyebrow, and I get the feeling she's hitting on me.   
  
I back away on instinct, putting some distance between us.  
  
"I was just walking by and saw you, I didn't mean to interupt or anything, I just wanted to say that I know you've had a bad day, but that you did a nice job in the trauma just now. Any other doctor would have given up." She licks her lips.  
  
"Oh, I don't know if I'd say that, but thank you." I smile then turn to the shelf of scrub pants. She's still there, lingering in the doorway. I ignore it and try to keep looking, but her pressence is distracting. "Good night." I call over my shoulder. She sighs and leaves, her sneakers' soles squeak as she trots down the hall. I let out a breath and head to the men's room with my scrubs in hand.   
  
  
****  
  
It's been a long day.   
  
No one is hiring and even if they were, I doubt they'd want a narcotic nurse in the drug lockup.  
  
In addition to career woes, the heat in my house is still unbearable. I was alone all day, and started to think about things, which is not good. When you think about things, you get depressed, and the next thing you know you'll want a drink or a fix.  
  
I settled for two packs of ciggarettes. But it was a close call, and it's only my second day.  
  
So three o'clock rolls around and I walk over here, not caring if I'm early. I just need to get away for awhile, maybe talk to Carter about all that I am feeling.   
  
It's eerie to be back at County. Sitting on the same couch, seeing the same view of the lockers and the doors and the coffee machiene. I pulled the blinds down so the likelyhood of being seen by someone I knew wouldn't be too high.   
  
I lay back into the couch and stare at the cieling.The darkness I'm surrounded in is penetrated by a sliver of light as the door opens. My heart starts pounding and I don't know why, but I try to stay very still.   
  
"Abby?" A surpised voice exclaims. "Abby, it's Susan."  
  
I sit up. Breath in, breath out. It's okay. It's Susan. She understands. In, and out, in and out.  
  
"Hey." I murmer. She runs over and hugs me to her. "Woah, I wasn't expecting this much of a welcoming." I can't help but crack a smile. My pulse slows down, leaving my dizzy from the rush of blood.  
  
"We've all missed you." She pulls away and sits down next to me. "How've you been?"   
  
I grin. "You know. How's it going with you?"  
  
"It's going." The wry tone in her voice makes me grin again. "So, what are you doing here? The last place I'd expect someone to want to be is at County. Unless they got hit by a truck that is."  
  
"Actually, Carter and I were going to get something to eat."  
  
"So you guys..?"  
  
"Are talking? Yes." I look away for a minnute.   
  
"You should come back here you know. We have a shortage of nurses and you'd be a great help." Susan gets up and pours herself a cup of coffee. She gestures towards the machiene and I shake my head.   
  
"I'll think about it, thanks."   
  
A muffled scream for one Susan Lewis, MD; comes from outside in the hall.  
  
" I have to get back, you know Weaver." She does look genuinley sorry too. "I'm so happy you're here! I'll call you later okay?"   
  
"All right."  
  
She opens the door to leave, and I see a crowd of nurses back away from her. Susan glares at them then turns back to me. "Take care Abby. I'm here if you need to talk. " I nod. "Good to see you!"  
  
"It was good to see you too." I call out, but she's already gone, leaving the darkness to swallow me again.  
  
Carter comes in within a matter of seconds after Susan leaves. He is busy putting things away in his locker that he doesn't even notice me here. If he does see me, he gives no indication. I shift my position to try and get a better idea of what, exactly, he's doing. He turns and sees me.  
  
"Hey, I thought you were someone else." He sounds relieved, and I don't know if I should be glad I'm not that particular someone else.   
  
"It's me."   
  
"I swear to god this nurse is stalking me." He says as he sits down just where Susan was a few moments ago. "How was you day?"  
  
I groan, not wanting to say what I've been thinking about but knowing that I have to. "Can we talk?" I ask. Carter's face lights up. Again, I don't know if I should be relieved by his reaction.   
  
"Sure. Do you want to go somewhere?" He's beaming. It's as if I just told him he was going to get laid by Pamela Anderson, rather than talk about my shitty life. I honestly do not understand men.   
  
"I haven't eaten anything." I suggest.  
  
"Wanna grab a burger then walk down by the river?" He's still grinning like an idiot, and I wonder if the smile is hurting his face.   
  
"If it floats your boat. I'm all set."   
  
He looks down at my hands that I'm playing with in my lap. For a momet I can see him almost reach out to take my hand in his own, but then he pulls away, looking uncomforable, and walks to get his jacket.   
  
****  
  
She talks to me. She talks to me about everything from the heating system in her house to her fifth birthday party. Everything but her bad day. Then she's quiet, and stares out over the water, looking miles beyond what's in front of her.   
  
I offer a story about one of my now deseased patients. Mabye if I open up, she'll tell me what's wrong.  
  
"I feel like I'm killing people instead of saving them." I say to the banester. Her arms snakes around my own and she leans into me very lightly, as if I'll be gone soon leaving her to fall to the ground.   
  
"Your a good doctor." Abby suggests. "We all have our days. Some people just have more of those days than others."   
  
There's a beat, and I wonder what she's looking at in her head.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?" She asks, her eyes pleading with me.   
  
Then she gets what I'm talking about.   
  
Her shoulders drop.  
  
"Wasn't you fault. It was mine."   
  
"I could have been there to help."  
  
"You were busy saving people's lives. I call upon me, and she didn't ask for any favors." Abby says.  
  
Then she squeezes my arm and lets go, but not for long. As she begins to retreat, I cover her small hand with my own, warming it, as we both stare at the serene depths of the dirty water.   
  
"Would you like to tell me about your day?" I ask.   
  
She doesn't respond for a while. The wheels in her mind are spinning, and a handful of times she looks as if shes about to say something, but then covers it with a fake yawn. It's silent, and not a comfortable silence. A silent scream in the night. Yet the call doesn't have to be shut up in Abby's already tourterd pshyce. I bleed inside, wanting her to tell me what's going on between her ears.   
  
The pause goes on for an eternity before she finds the words. People pass us by, the water continues to lap against the stone bridge, and I wait for her.   
  
"Do the cravings keep comming back this badly?" Abby finaly asks, looking at me and piercing my soul. I shake my head no and feel a wave of relief wash over me.  
  
"Not as bad as in the first two weeks. You'll want to give up, you'll want to go back because you think it's easier. But when that happens you have to remind yourself how far gone you where down."  
  
Abby leans into me more forcefuly now, and I wrap my left arm around her, cradling her head with the right. I stroke her hair back from her forehead and tell her that she's strong. Her cynical laughter, the kind of laugh people have when they don't know to laugh or cry, is what comes from her.   
  
"Not now, I'm letting you hold me like a baby." She mutters into my shoulder. Then that laugh of hers. Then the sniffle. Then the laugh. The dance we do.  
  
"Sometimes we need to be held."  
  
"I'm not supposed to need that." Abby whispers into my ear.   
  
But look at what's happening, Abby. I think to myself.   
  
Pleasent quiet settles in after that, but is quickly quaked by Abby stiffening against me.  
  
"Ugh, I'm so..." She starts, trying to pull away, but I pull her back into me and she relaxes and lets me hold her upright.   
  
"We all have our days." I say, then losen my grip. "But I'll be around on your bad ones. Your not alone." I almost cry with relief, remembering how badly I've wanted to say that to her.  
  
I feel her breathing against me, and all I want to do is lean down and kiss her, but I know it's wrong. Ashamed, I turn away. I try to forget, but having her hands on my back isn't helping. I turn around, and those chocolate eyes of hers are full of forgiveness, and want. She wants what I want, and even though it's wrong, it would be equally as wrong to deny ourselves this one taste of happiness.   
  
There's only now, there's only here.   
  
Abby stands on her toes and pulls my face down to meet hers, and I kiss her lightly on the lips. Fireworks don't go off, and a band dosen't start to play, there's no clapping and there are no whistles. But there is that spark that we always had, that goes twisting through your guts and melts you every single time you make contact.   
  
"I shouldn't have done that." I say.  
  
"What did you do?" Abby snaps.  
  
"We shouldn't."   
  
She presses her lips together looking guilty. She thinks I didn't want it. I should feel guilty, but I can't get my eyes off of those lips of hers.   
  
"I know." Abby sighs. "One step at a time." Her words make sence, but her tone is harsh.  
  
"Unfourtunatly that's the way it is."   
  
Please don't leave me again.  
  
"I'd better go, I've already made myself look like a moron." She begins to stalk off into the shadows. As much as I want to run after her, I'm cemented to the ground. She's too tempting, much more than I remembered.   
  
I crossed the line, but I'm only human. Guilty as charged. Steps are the key here, and if we skip one, she'll fall. I promised not to let that happen again, but I'm the one pushing it. No, we both are, we both need each other. I have to be the responsable one now, I can't let her down. I won't let her down, because that would kill me.  
  
  
  
****  
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Four: Those Kinds Of Days  
****  
  
Author's Note: To all who've been wondering why I'm taking so long in finishing this story, I have an answer: I feel as if many fanfics start out strong and amazing, but then the author feels rushed to compleate the story, and finds a quick way to end it. I've done it myself, but seeing as how this is my favorite chapter story I've ever writen, I will not do that. My chapters will continue to be long, and I will do the best possible job I can editing. (Of course, with the wonderful help of my wonderful beta Sara.) There is to be one more chapter after this, and then an epilouge. Susan's line "it's going." Is stolen...erm, borrowed w/o permission...from Raine.g "There's only us. There's only here." Is a line from Rent, the musical by Jonathan Larson. (Which I strongly reccomend seeing, but *off* broadway...) Sujestions/Feedback/Flames...all welcome @ Rockarbaby@aol.com 


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